The Eagles' Revenge
by Nahar
Summary: After the War of the Ring, all seems well. But trouble is discovered when Gwaihir, the Lord of the Misty Mountain Eagles, is found slain. PG13 for future violence.
1. Default Chapter

As I soar over the fields of Rohan, I see the victorious soldiers returning to their lives of peace. They are happy, but I am grieved. I am not content, though I know I should be. "The Dark Lord is destroyed; there are no reasons for melancholy now."  
Even though this has become a continuous chant in the back of my mind, I cannot believe it. A shadow is creeping over the festivities; I fear there is still unrest and evil in the world.  
Movement! I am cast out of my reverie when I spot a shadow moving on the ground. In a moment I am upon the unfortunate creature. Disgusting! Orc meat is foul, but I must eat; it will not do to eat those I know to be supporters of the Light. I force myself to swallow the rest of the filth, for I know I will need my strength if my feeling proves to be more than simple paranoia. I turn towards home, scanning the fields below for any suspicious activity. It will not do to be taken unawares; we are more vulnerable when we a weakened by drink. It is a safe flight home, but I am greeted by much grief when I arrive.  
  
"Gwaihir has been slain!" is the cry which echoes above the rest when I finally enter the Great Hall, a cavern covered, on all sides, with thousands of small holes, roosts for the council members.  
"How could this have happened?" I ask Gwyndle, my sister, "Surely he was safe enough in Gondor, celebrating with the men and elves! Would they not look for his safety; he is the reason that many survived."  
"There is still no word from the White City. We must pursue the truth; it will not do to let our Father's killer go free. Come, Awyng."  
At that, she takes to the air and I follow. She is right. We must have vengeance; the death of our lord and father will not go unpunished." 


	2. An Arrival in the White City

As we soar through the air, I know that my worries from before have been well founded. "Peace and happiness will never exist in Middle Earth. It is a hopeless cause; millions of lives were wasted in this useless war." I mutter to myself. "Ah, that is where you are wrong, little one," my sister had flown up close and heard my despondent words, "The war has ended on a splendid note; Sauron is surely gone forever and the orc armies have fled in fear. There is only our father's killer to worry us. The war was not fought in vain." Her words do nothing to quell the aching uneasiness growing inside me. There is something bigger at work here than one murderer.  
  
When we finally arrive in Gondor, it is to find the celebrations still in full swing. Apparently, the people did not notice the disappearance of their most valiant savior. We try to learn the whereabouts of Gandalf the White, who surely will be able to help us, but the cities guards are to confused by drink to be of any help. Finally! We happen upon a young man who does not sway where he stands.

"Please, young master, could you tell us where we could find Gandalf the White?" asks Gwyndle. "It is a matter of utmost importance."

"I can take you to him. He is feasting with King Elessar and his Lady." The boy leads us down a brightly lit corridor while we convers.

"May I ask why you know his whereabouts? Surely you do not know the Lord or Lady."

"I am a servant here in the palace. I brought them their dinner not an hour ago."

"And what is your name, oh servant, so that I may praise your service in the presence your king?" I ask.

"My name is Beren." He replies, "But I am of no impressive lineage; I am not in any way related to Beren son of Barahir, the lord of the Edain. I am no hero, like he was."

"Perhaps you are destined for great things, humble sir; a great name such as Beren can only be given to a person who will grow into a hero. I expect our paths will meet again." I say. The words surprise me, but I know them to be true. This young boy will be great.

Beren leaves us at the entrance to a great hall. Though great in size, there are less than a dozen people feasting here, and the mood in the room is nothing like the rest of the city. There are more stern faces than joyful, and the tone of mumbled conversation is quite worried. As we enter, the people stop their talking and focus their attention on us.

"I am Gwyndle, daughter of the great Gwaihir, and this is my brother, Awyng. We come with urgent news and a plead for help, for Gwaihir has been slain!" My sister's voice echoes off the high arched ceiling and surrounds us. Then a man stands, which silences the murmuring people seated there.

"Indeed, I feared that something of this nature would happen. We have been struck with our defenses down and our army befuddled. Please sit, eat, and drink, and we will discuss our next course of action." The man says this in a commanding voice. His crown, silver and covered in crystallized leaves, signifies his position; he must certainly be the great King Elessar, Lord Aragorn, champion of the free peoples. I am in awe to meet such a man, though I know my father was just as powerful, brave, and steadfast. I know my sister to be this way as well.

We sit and feast in silence. When the discussions begin, I find I cannot listen, so comforted by the food. I have not slept in three days...I am jolted from my comfortable state when Gwyndle pokes me with her talon. I find the entire council is looking at me and I duck my head in an embarrassed apology.

"Yes, we forget our manners," A stunningly beautiful elf speaks this time. She must be the Lady Arwen, Aragorn's wife. "Our guests are certainly tired from there journey and their grief. Beren! Come."

Beren leads us once again down the brightly lit corridor, but this time he is much more subdued. "Young Beren, why do you walk in silence?" I ask him, "Have we insulted you in some way?"

"No sir, I simply did not realize before that you were leaders of the Eagles. I am ashamed at my rudeness from before; it was not my place to speak to you. Please forgive, I am but a foolish child."

I am shocked to think that he felt ashamed of himself for being friendly and helpful. I ponder ways to make it clear to him that I enjoy his speech, when he directs us to a chamber very much like our roosts on Taniquetil. He leaves in silence, and without a glance back. The room feels strangely like home, and I find it very easy to fall asleep here, despite our present predicament. I sleep, and I dream.

In this dream, I am soaring above a dark forest when I hear a piercing shriek. A dark shape plummets toward the ground, falling from the sky. Suddenly a dark creature, very similar to my father in physical form, attacks me and I, too, fall from the sky. I wake with a scream, shaking. I now know how my father died.


	3. Explanation of the Dream, and a Friend G...

Thanks to my only reviewer, aronoiiel. You motivate me to write more, sir! Here we go.....  
  
My shriek, caused by a terrifyingly vivid dream, wakes Gwyndle. She rises quickly and is crouching in a defensive position before she realizes the scream was uttered by me.  
"What is the meaning of this, Awyng?" she yells, "We must sleep while we can, for we must leave in the morning to begin our quest. Explain yourself at once." She glares down at me, trembling with rage and the adrenaline which enabled her to rise so swiftly.  
"My sincere apologies, dear sister. I was myself awakened, but by a vivid and terrible vision. I dreamt that I was Gwaihir, our honorable father. I saw, in this vision, the death of our father reenacted. It was too terrible to bear. I shouted out, against my will, and I beg you to forgive me." Gwydle's manner changes so abruptly that it would shock me if I did not know her well.  
"You must relive that dream for my, little Awyng. This could be the key. We could discover the identity of Gwaihir's murderer. Tell me what happened."  
"I was soaring through the air; I was flying over a dark forest, perhaps Mirkwood or Fangorn. I was Gwaihir. I heard a shriek, like one of our kind, and a dark shape plummeted out of the air. I fear that another member of our nation is dead, but I know nothing for sure. Then, a dark shape flew toward me and struck. I was injured and I fell, but I saw the attacker. At first I thought that it was Gwaihir, myself in the dream, but then I looked closer. It appeared to be Thorondor, legendary hero of Eagles from the First Age of the Sun; he was enormous and fierce. But that cannot be. He has been dead for many years; however, I have seen the likenesses of him painted in the great hall and I am not mistaken. I can only think that the murderer disguised himself somehow, or is a shape shifter." My narrative complete, I slip into silent thought, trying to ponder what this could mean. I only know that Gwaihir died at the hand of a winged beast. He fell a great distance after being injured and he could not have survived the fall, though he was always great.  
"Little brother, did you notice anything in the...the dream that could help us to identify the area? Did you notice any part of the forest that was strange?"  
"There was a large tree, it was shining. It was at least five feet higher than the other trees. It seemed to be pulsing, which did not seem odd to me at the time, as if I knew what it was. I forgot about it when I was attacked, and I did not remember until a moment ago. Do you know of such a tree?"  
"No, but at dawn we must seek out Gandalf. He may know the meaning or the location of such a tree. Gwaihir told Gandalf things that he never told even us. He may have spoken of this to Gandalf. For right now, get some sleep. Tomorrow will be a tiring day."  
  
Gwyndle is not in the room when I wake. I am alone, and for a moment can recall nothing of the past day. Then I remember, and I am grieved. My father is slain and there are pressing matters to attend to. I quickly make my way from my chamber to the immense hall I dined in last night. There is only one person in the room when I enter, and it is not the lord of the castle, it is indeed Beren the servant boy.  
"Oh Beren, I meant to speak with you last night before you left us. I want you to know that I welcome your company and enjoyed speaking with you yesterday, brief though our encounter was. I do not wish for you to feel any shame over—Beren? What is wrong, young sir?" I see the boy slump to the floor, shaking with the intensity of his sobs. He only cries more when I try to comfort him and I am at a loss.  
At that moment, a woman enters the room. She is dressed as a common village girl, but carries herself in such a way that demands respect. She walks to Beren and bends over him.  
"Beren dear, please stop crying. It will be alright, you shall see." Her attention turns to me, "Could you please fetch a wet cloth to bathe his head? He is not well."  
"Certainly, lady. But could you tell me what ails him? He seemed quite well yesterday when I first met him." I wonder what could cause such a transformation in a person. What has happened to the boy?  
"He is physically well, but he is suffering from grief. He has learned of his father's death just a short while ago, and his mother and young siblings are gone as well. This grief is a thing that Beren should not have to experience." A tear silently courses down her round cheek. "I thank you for comforting him. He could use a good friend at this point. Please help him."  
I turn to Beren as she leaves the room. He has calmed and is silently crying now. I put my wing around his back and just sit with him. I know how he feels, though Eagles do not usually partake in such displays of raw emotion. It goes against our very natures. But I sometimes wish that I could be a young human boy for once, so I could be held and comforted by a mother. I believe that Beren can help me to feel, just as I can help him to be strong.  
"My father, too, has just passed." I tell him, "I believe that two fatherless sons, such as ourselves, would do well to become good friends. It matters not what your station in life is." Beren dries his tears and looks at me shakily.  
"Thank you much, sir. I am very grateful for your kindness."  
"In return, I believe you shall accompany my sister and me as we search for our father's murderer. I believe that you shall be a great help to us on our journey. I know you shall be great, as was the Beren of long ago." 


	4. The Quest is Begun

Taking place hours after the last chapter:  
  
In the past few hours, I have learned quite a lot about my new friend Beren. He, though small in size, is skilled with a bow and sword. His father was wounded in the War of the Ring; he was suffering from many festering wounds when he was taken by fever. He held on for many days, brave man, but he traveled beyond this morning. His passing left Beren without any family, for his mother and sisters had all been taken by a fever three months before. It made perfect sense to bring Beren along with us as we sought the murderer of my own father.

"When are we to depart, Awyng?" Beren's voice cuts through my thoughts, interrupting them.

"I know not, young Beren. Why do you ask?"

"I simply wish to say goodbye to a friend of mine before we leave; it is not likely we will meet again."

"If your friend is in need of adventure and is steadfast and brave, feel free to invite him along. We will be grateful for any assistance, to be quite sure."

"Alas, my friend will not be granted permission to go; her parents would not approve of her accompanying us. She would certainly be willing to go if she were allowed, though I am afraid it is not to be."

"Forgive me; I assumed your friend was a man, which would not in any way be a problem. Myself, I would not protest if she were to accompany us, though it is against your customs. I do not understand you humans. Why can a woman not defend her family and city in battle? Indeed, it seems most foolish. I know that of the Eagles, females are by far the stronger. I would not survive if it were not for Gwyndle's superb hunting skills."

"Yes, well, you Eagles are quite different from us humans in many ways. You also enjoy the occasional dinner of Tasty Orc." Beren laughs.

"You must know that we eat orc not out of necessity but out of need. If you prefer, we could instead eat your friends and family members. Humans do taste delicious..." I feign hunger, and I step towards Beren threateningly.

"Oh!" Beren, not quite accustomed to my sharp talons, steps back.

"Don't worry, I would never eat you," I say, "We need your skills on our quest. Perhaps afterward."

Beren leaves the room laughing and I carry on packing a haversack full of rations. I was joking about eating Beren, but I am sure that he would be quite horrified to know I once did eat a man. I feel terribly about it.

Gwyndle enters and my thoughts are once again interrupted. "I just finished talking with Gandalf about your dream, Awyng," she says, "He believes that it was a true vision. The forest was Mirkwood forest near the Misty Mountains; Gandalf believes that the pulsating tree is a mark of darkness, something evil, though he does not know of it. It worries him. We are to leave at once." Gwyndle's words fill me with dread. What is so terrible? Why is Gandalf so worried? Surely our foe is not as great as the recently defeated Dark Lord. I am concerned.

The journey is going well. We have encountered no disturbances and the weather is comfortable for traveling. 

"So, friend, how soon shall we be stopping for the night?" asks Beren, "I do not tire, I just worry about you. Are you well?"

"I am simply worried about the outcome of our quest. Gandalf believes my dream to be a true vision and we a traveling to Mirkwood because of it. But what if the dream was simply a nightmare, something out of my fears?"

"Well that is impossible! Awyng the Brave has no fear." Jokes Beren.

"The absence of fear is not bravery, it is stupidity. A man without fear will surely fall."

"That I know all to well..." Beren is cut off by a slight commotion behind us, where Gandalf and Gwyndle discuss plans. A horse gallops up to our small party, ridden by a small girl, no older than seventeen. She has flyaway red hair streaming behind her, and she looks wilder than her horse.

"Maron! What are you doing here?" shouts Beren.

"I am tired of town life. I fancy an adventure of two." She laughs.

"Pardon me," murmurs Gandalf, "who are you?"

"Oh! I am sorry, master Gandalf. I am Maron, a friend of Beren's from Gondor. I have decided to accompany you; I fear that Beren needs protecting, he is so young."

"Young? Last time I checked, you were considerably younger than me!"

"Do you have any skill with bow or sword? Are you able to cook or hunt?" Gwyndle interrupts their playful banter with a string of similar questions that Maron answers with ease. When she is done asking these questions, Gwyndle looks quite satisfied, and walks off in silence. Apparently, the girl is useful for the journey and quite capable of taking care of herself, or Gwyndle would have forced her to leave.

Beren looks a great deal happier than he did before, and I make sure to mention this while Maron is within earshot. Beren's ears redden and he laughs.

"Of course, she is my best friend. It is natural to feel happy. If she had not come, she would have been forced to marry and I would not be allowed to see her alone ever again. It is a wonderful turn of events.

When we stop for the night, we spread cloaks for the humans and Gandalf, and Gwyndle and I gather soft brush for bedding. We gather close to the fire, for the night is much cooler with the warmth from the sun gone. Gandalf proposes a song, and there are no protests. Maron begins to sing, her voice clear and beautiful, so different from her speaking voice. She sings a song of the Beren of old, and his love Luthien. I can sense much emotion behind her voice while she sings; it sounds strange to me for emotion is not usually present in Eagle songs. Her voice even moves my sister; she struggles to regain her composure when the song is done. She leaves to gather more wood for the fire. 

Gandalf fell asleep before, though his eyes remain open even now in unceasing watchfulness. I am feeling strangely content, taking into account the events of the past few days. I feel myself drifting off to sleep as the fire dies down. Maron is already asleep now, and Beren is feigning sleep, his rhythmic breathing a little to fast to be the breath of sleep. But where is Gwyndle? She has been gone now for half of an hour. Suddenly, I hear the sound of labored breathing nearby; I am wide awake now. There is a crash in the surrounding forest and I hear a squawk that could only be my sister.

"Gandalf, wake!" I whisper urgently to the wizard, but he has already risen, staff in hand. Beren is also ready for a battle, a sword in one hand and a dagger in the other. Maron has disappeared; perhaps she was frightened by the noises and took flight. I have no time to wonder or worry about Gwyndle's whereabouts, for there is sudden crash and a large pine tree falls over onto our fire. It catches alight, and I am separated from Gandalf and Beren.

I jump up and soar thirty feet in the air before looking back down at my companions. The tree is completely consumed by the flames; it illuminates the surrounding area. I see a party of at least twenty goblins spread out around Beren and Gandalf. We have been ambushed. I am consumed by a wrath unlike any other I have ever felt. I have lost my father and, quite possibly, my sister; I refuse to let my remaining friends be taken by an unknown enemy. In my furry, I dive for the nearest goblin as Gandalf releases a surge of power from his staff that sends me into the nearest tree.

I feel my grip on consciousness slipping as the world goes black around me. I hear a terrified scream of "Beren!" before I am lost to the darkness. I know nothing of the events around me.


	5. Night in the Forest

Thanks again to aroniiel for continued reviews, and to Cherished Dreams! On with the story....  
  
Beren's Point of view:  
  
I hear Maron scream my name, pointing to the sky. I look up in horror as Gandalf releases his power. Unleashed, the power immediately kills the attacking goblins, saving us all. But, in saving us, it may have slain my newest and most dear of friends. Oh, Awyng! I pray you are alive.  
As the smoke clears, I scramble over the mutilated, smoking carcasses of our enemies towards my fallen comrade.  
"Oh, Manwe," I cry, "Protect you servant!"  
I stumble and fall over fallen goblins; I pick myself up and continue to hurry towards Awyng.  
When I reach him, I cannot suppress my gasp of horror. He appears to be dead. Only one day into our quest, and my newest friend is slain....by filthy GOBLINS! I am full of sorrow and furry, but there are no goblins for me to vent my frustrations on. Instead, I hurl my battle axe through the air; its journey is stopped by a charred tree which is blocking its path.  
"Beren?" I hear Maron's timid voice behind me. "Is he...? Oh! Beren!  
"He is alive! Step away from him now, quickly!" Gandalf's voice is urgent. His brow is shiny with sweat and his face is pale. He looks ill after using so much of his energy to protect us.  
"Give me your cloak, quickly now, Beren; Maron, I need you to warm water over the fire, stew athelas and rosemary in it, and bring it to me with some clean cloths. Hurry!"  
I quickly give him my cloak to cover Awyng, and then watch anxiously as he passes his hands over Awyng's limp body. He mutters words that I cannot make out, but there appears to be no change.  
"Here's the broth, Gandalf!" says Maron when she returns about twenty minutes later. In her haste to give the medicine to Gandalf, Maron slops some down her front. Despite the current situation, I have to stifle a laugh; Maron has always had trouble with "woman" duties. She handles a sword better than most men I know.  
She looks at me, smiles, and looks down at the lifeless form of Awyng. Her cheerful manner is gone, replaced by a worried frown. I throw her a bit of cloth to clean herself up with and move closer to Awyng.  
"Gandalf, is there anything I can do to help him?" I ask.  
"Yes, take Maron into the forest and look for Gwyndle. She did not return when she went to find wood for the fire. It's possible that she was wounded in the battle. Bring her back."  
I grab my extra cloak (that which is not being used to warm my friend), take Maron's hand, and set off into the surrounding forest. The night around us is strangely quite, and I am nervous. After about fifteen minutes, Maron pokes me hard in the ribs.  
"What?"  
"Do you see that shape? Over there?"  
There is indeed a shape there, large and ...moving?  
"It must be Gwydle!" I whisper urgently to Maron, tugging her after me.  
When we reach the dark form, I realize too late that it is not just Gwyndle. It is a large blanket covering...something. And when I pull the blanket back, I find six goblins lying on top of the unconscious form of Gwyndle. I am completely taken aback, and can only gasp as one of them pulls out a rusty dagger and slashes my forearm with it. Hot blood pours from the stinging wound as I pull my own blade from its sheath. The goblin that wounded me falls as I strike. Blood repaid...  
I hear a shriek and see a goblin standing over Maron, ready to strike. For a moment, I long for my axe, which I know is still lying motionless in the charred tree near Awyng. Without thinking another second, I let go of my sword and charge at the foul creature, knocking it to the ground. I use my fist to mutilate its face, ending its life, then turn to Maron. Her face is bleeding, but she is fine. Though she is normally brave, I can see her trembling with fear. I give her sword back to her and pick up my own. We turn to face the remaining four enemies. Within a minute, they are all slain. Maron is stained with their thick, black blood, but she is unhurt. I, on the other hand, can feel myself losing focus as my blood drains from the wound on my right arm, my sword arm.  
Maron catches me as I fall to the ground, unable to keep my balance. The world is swimming out of focus. As I lose consciousness, I feel myself being lifted onto a strong back and I float off into darkness...  
  
A/N: Sorry about all the "losing consciousness" stuff, but that's what I'm feeling when I write, so oh well! The endings will not continue to be that way, I promise!!! Please, read and review! My life depends on it! (mmkay, not really, just go with me, ok??) 


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